Nis Puk
by Yanne S
Summary: Set in Season One. Sam and Dean are on the road with their father, trying to find the demon that killed their mother. When they pass through a small town, they stumble upon a case. Unfortunately, Sam gets sick...
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to my first story!

I apologize in advance for all the mistakes I probably have made, but I am neither a native speaker nor do I have a Beta-Reader.

Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural and I don't make money with it either.

* * *

Nis Puk - Chapter 1

A tickling in nose interrupted Sam's reading. Irritated, he looked up from the old book about the history of the town they were in, rubbing his nose. "Ha… haa… tchoo!" He couldn't prevent the sneeze from escaping.

"Bless you." his brother said absently.

"Thanks." he replied, glad that it was just one sneeze, probably from the dust that seemed to be everywhere. He really hoped, he wasn't getting sick.

They were sitting at an old, wooden table in the local library while their father was busy looking for signs of The Demon. It was by chance that they had become aware of the problem. They had been driving through this small town and had stopped at the diner for a late lunch where they had overheard the conversation of two local women.

Apparently, someone was pranking the families. They had talked about how they thought the children were doing it, conspiring against their parents and planning together, but the younger woman – and Dean had commented how hot she was – told the other that it had happened to her family as well and that it just wasn't possible because her children were too young.

"They are not even two yet. They can't leave their beds alone. How could they possibly knot all the shoe-laces together or get the peas from the cupboard to spoil them all over the kitchen?" she had said.

And the brothers had to agree. Therefore, they had stopped at the next motel a few minutes out of town and had spent the rest of the afternoon and this morning investigating. They had interviewed the affected families, four so far, had looked for clues and even EMF in the houses, but they had found nothing. Not that they had expected it to be a ghost, but one could never be too careful. They had discovered though that the creature or whatever it was changed houses about every two weeks and that there were no signs of a break-in, hence the thought the children were doing it though of course all of them denied it. They now knew as well which house was the first one to be targeted and Sam had the feeling it was important.

That was why they were now in the library, Dean searching for possible creatures that could have done it and Sam looking up the history of not only the first families house but the town as well and if there had happened something like this in the past.

He had already found out that the house had been built by a family many decades ago when they had fled from Germany to escape the Nazis. Apparently, they had owned the house ever since and the last member of that family, an old lady named Karin Neumann, had died four months ago. According to a newspaper article the deceased women had stipulated in her will that all of her possessions should be sold and the money should then go to an orphanage. While that family had lived in the house, nothing suspicious had ever been noted, so Sam didn't see how the current incidents could have a connection to them. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something.

He refocused on his text, trying to find anything about the land before it had been inhabited by the family.

A few hours later neither he nor Dean had found anything helpful, but Sam had sneezed a couple of times more. There seemed to be no reason for why this happened, no hints. Nothing like this had happened in this town, in fact nothing ever happened in this town until now and they had no explanation for it.

"Let's call it a day!"

Sam sighed but agreed. They wouldn't find anything unless they had more clues. They had already been searching for at least five hours and he was pretty tired. They packed their things and then left, going back to their motel.

* * *

"Hey, boys," their father greeted them when they entered their room, "Productive day?". He was sitting at the table, writing in his journal.

"No, we'll have to go back tomorrow and interview the families all over again. There has to be something we have overlooked." Dean looked annoyed at that. "And we should get another look at the house where it all started.", he added as an after-thought.

"Good. So what do you think about finding a bar and getting something to drink?" He closed his journal and stood up.

"Great idea, Dad. You coming, Sam?"

Of course Dean would be on board with that and normally Sam would join as well even though he'd take his computer with him to get some more work done, but today he wasn't feeling like it. Besides, this time Dean wouldn't be alone without him, which was the main reason Sam went with his brother, so that somebody had his back. "No thanks, I'm beat. Have fun!"

"You sure, Sammy?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Are you really, really sure, Sammy?" Dean smiled playfully and his eyes were twinkling.

"Yes Dean, I'm really, really sure. And it's Sam." He was a bit annoyed and rolled his eyes at Dean's antics, but he liked seeing Dean so happy and carefree that he had to laugh. A moment later he regretted it though because that ended in a coughing fit. When it stopped, Dean was by his side, holding him steady and asking, "Are you okay?". He wasn't smiling any longer. Now he sounded worried.

"It's fine, Dean. Just go already!" Sam wanted his brother to have fun. Dean shouldn't always think about Sam first, but that was just what he did. Sam was an adult now though and capable of taking care of his self.

"If you're sure…?"

"Dean!"

"I'm going, I'm going. Don't get your panties in a twist." The last sentence he muttered under his breath, halfway out of the door, but Sam heard it nonetheless.

And he did see the look John was giving him and knew that was his way of making sure Sam was alright before he left as well. It was just surprising he didn't say anything and had only watched their interaction. The door closed silently. Then Sam was alone.

Exhausted he went to his bed and let himself fall down. For a short moment he contemplated watching the TV, but then the possibility of uninterrupted sleep won out. He hadn't even realized he was so tired until now and being stuck in the old library with crappy air the whole afternoon had given him a headache that didn't help him feel better. So sleep sounded great actually. He would only have to move a bit, change his clothes and a short trip to the bathroom.

Grudgingly, he sat up and groaned as his headache spiked and then settled to a dull throbbing. He moved slowly to the bathroom, stumbling, since he almost couldn't keep his eyes open. As fast as he could he did his business and then shuffled back to his bed, changed and climbed under the covers. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow and didn't even stir when John and Dean came back.

* * *

A hand shaking his shoulder woke him the next morning. The sun was shining through the windows and Sam knew it had to be rather late already. He was relieved to find his headache gone, instead he noticed his stuffed nose. Though not painful, it really wasn't an improvement. He sat up and saw that either Dean or their dad had bought breakfast and coffee. He couldn't smell anything, but it looked pretty good. "Morning.", he greeted them and then realized that he couldn't see their father anywhere, just Dean standing at the side of his bed. He got up and started to get his things together for a shower.

"You too,", Dean replied. "So, you manage to stay awake a bit longer this time?"

Confused, he halted his movements. "What…?"

"You don't remember? We tried to wake you about an hour ago, but you would only turn and sleep on."

"Sorry, thought that was a drea… hatchoo!"

He hurried to the bathroom to get some paper. Then he took a pleasantly hot shower and after dressing himself in his suit, since he had seen Dean wearing one as well, he rejoined his family. Sitting down at the table, he saw that Dean and their father had already eaten, but that was hardly surprising considering it was almost half past nine. On a normal day they usually rose between seven and eight, half past eight at the latest, to do whatever they had to do that day. Only if they had had a hunt the night before they allowed themselves to sleep in.

"What's the plan? Where is Dad?" he asked and began to dig in. He was rather hungry since he didn't have dinner last night.

Dean joined him at the table. "Well, you and me, we have to interview those families and check out the house again, see if we can find anything we missed the last time and then we'll meet up with Dad for lunch. After that probably another boring afternoon in the library. And Dad already left, said he may have a lead he wanted to look into."

Sam nodded his consent. When he was finished with eating, they swiftly packed the necessary things and then left the room as well.

Once they were in the car, Sam asked, "So, where do we start? The families or the house?"

"I propose we start with the house as that is where the first affected family lives as well. And then we should go and interview the others chronologically. Maybe it helps us get a better understanding how that thing thinks."

"Yeah, okay. Let's go!" That sounded reasonable. That way they could follow the object's or creature's steps exactly as it had made them which would, with a bit of luck, give them an idea of what it was. After all, it could be anything.


	2. Chapter 2

About ten minutes later they arrived at the Matthew's house. The family had moved in just three months ago and two weeks later the pranking started. The three children had immediately been suspected, but, of course, they all denied it.

Sam got out of the car and saw Dean already waiting. They were posing as two college students on the road with their father but looking for anything interesting that might make a good story for a paper or maybe even a novel. After they had heard the conversation in the diner, they had become interested and since they had nothing better to do, the had decided to try their skills in solving the mystery.

They went over to the small house. It was surrounded by a neatly kept garden that had a swing for the children in one corner. In another corner they had planted some vegetables. The remaining space was just grass that was divided in two by a stone path. The house itself was built with red bricks and the roof had dark brown pantiles. There certainly had been some renovations in the last few years as there was no way the house still looked so good after more or less sixty years.

Sam rang the doorbell and stepped back to stand beside his brother. They only had to wait for a few seconds until the door was opened. Mrs. Matthews was a tall women, well, tall compared to other women, in her late thirties. She wore her brown hair in a loose bun in the nape of her neck and was dressed in comfortable but elegant-looking clothes. On her hands were big, pink rubber gloves from which water was still dripping.

"Messrs. Spencer , how can I help you?" she greeted them, "Oh, and excuse me for not offering my hand. I'm afraid, I'd get you all wet. I was just doing the dishes, you know. But please, do come in."

"Thank you, Madam. We apologize for disturbing you. We just had a few more questions. Shall we come back later?"

"No, no, it's alright. The plates can wait a bit longer." She stepped back to let them enter. Sam waited until Dean went first. He turned around to discretely blow his nose and then followed his brother, closing the door behind. They were led to the living-room where Mrs. Matthews politely offered them a seat before calling for her husband and going back to the kitchen to take off her gloves.

"Yes, Margaret, dear. What is it?" Mr. Matthews entered the room. He was about the same height as his wife, but definitely had a few more pounds of meat on his ribs. He wasn't fat, not at all, but one could see that his body wasn't getting much activity. He probably sat in an office all day and the only work-out he had was playing with his children. His thin hair was already graying though it once had light brown color. He wore square glasses that made his friendly expression look a bit sterner.

"Oh, hello, I didn't see you there. You were those people who wanted to write this story about what's happening here, weren't you? How can I help you?"

"Yes, that's right, Mr. Matthews. We were wondering if we could ask you a few more questions."

"If you think it could help. But I don't have much time, so make it short."

"Of course, Mr. Matthews. Thanks a lot for your time."

"Darling, don't be so impolite. We'd love to help. Please, sit down. Do you want a drink? A tea perhaps?"

"Yes, please. A cup of tea sounds really nice," Sam answered for both of them when he saw Dean beginning to decline the kind offer. He was starting to feel a slight tickle in his throat and hoped some tea would help him get through the interview without anybody noticing he was getting sick.

A couple of cups of tea later, they were coming to the end of their questions. Sam had let Dean take the lead – which had earned him a worried glance - and had only intervened when he thought Dean was forgetting something. That was certainly a good decision because while the tea had prevented that he needed to cough repeatedly, it didn't stop his throat from getting hoarse and that would have happened even faster if he had had to talk the whole time, not to mention Dean would have noticed very soon. But everything had gone fine and there was just one last question to ask.

"Anything else you can tell us?"

"Well," she glanced at Mr. Matthews, "there was that other week, but again just exactly one week, mind you. My husband, he was so helpful, but always in secret. I remember that one time I went to do the laundry, but there it was, already clean and folded. I think, he even plaited everything. Another time he did the dishes, things like that. But after a week, it just stopped."

"I'm sorry, dear, I know I should help you more, but as much as I hate to admit it, that wasn't me. I don't even know how to use the iron."

"You see? Even now he says he didn't do it."

When Mr. Matthews opened his mouth to reply, Sam mouthed to him, "Just let her think you did it and maybe help out more in the future."

Meanwhile, Dean was questioning Mrs. Matthews a bit more. "Thanks a lot, for telling us about this, Mrs. Matthews. When did you say this happened?"

"Oh, that was just the week before the kids were acting up, you know. Poor children, it wasn't easy for them to move here."

While Dean was still talking to both of them, Sam excused himself and began to inspect the rooms. They had already been through all this, but since they hadn't found anything then, he went over it once more. He didn't have much hope though, but there had to be some clues left behind somewhere. Hurrying through the rooms, he was glad the children were at school. The day before he hadn't had much luck going through their rooms as they had been playing there, but at least he had had the chance to ask them a few questions. Now, that he had heard Mrs. Matthews tale that something had been helping her in the household (he didn't believe for a second that the husband was lying about that), he remembered the kids telling him, that sometimes when their mother told them to tidy up they had come to their rooms only to find them already neat and clean. And they had been very insistent that they had nothing to do with the pranking.

When he finished and returned, he found his brother already waiting for him. Again they thanked the couple for answering the questions and promised to tell them if they learned something new. A quick glimpse to the clock showed that they still had enough time to interview the next family before meeting their father for lunch and they made their way back to the car.


End file.
